"Get up!" said his enemy, giving him a kick, and dragging him roughly from the chair. "Now," he went on, "I think you refused to answer my questions last time I asked 'em. You'll please to alter your ways from to-night, or you'll get more o' _these_ than you'll quite like." As he spoke he let go of the lad's collar with his right hand, and brought it swinging down with all his force on the side of Stephen's head. Instantly the boy dropped like one dead at his feet. At the same moment the office-door opened, and the appalling sight appeared of Mr. Fairfax's tall form, followed closely by his son Archie. Not a second did Simon lose. He turned to the door, and was off like a flash of lightning. Archie made a rush, as though to follow him. "Cowardly lout!" he cried. "No; stop, Archie," said his father. "You couldn't catch him; and if you did, you couldn't keep him. We'll examine him to-morrow--we both saw who it was. Now let us look after this poor lad." "See, father, he was writing a letter," said Archie. Mr. Fairfax took up the paper. This is what it said:-- "DEAR FATHER,--The little 'uns is all well, and I've got money now to last 'em till you are out, if I'm took before, which I'm that bad and low I can't hardly creep along. I've give Polly the money to use when wanted. She's been a good girl all along. Come to the above address as soon as you are out. I done my best, father, as you told me. And now good-bye, if I'm gone.--Your loving son, "STEPHEN BENNETT. "_P.S._--I never believed as you did it, father, and I don't now. God will make it right, so don't fret." The envelope lay by the letter. It was directed to-- _Ambrose Bennett, No. 357,_ _Eastwood Jail._ Mr. Fairfax gave them both to his son. "There, Archie," he said; "read these, and see if you still think you were right." Then he went to Stephen, and did what he could to restore him to consciousness. But he was in such a weak state that nothing seemed of any use. "Father, I've been a suspicious _brute_," cried Archie, flinging down the letter. "But for my cold looks and constant spying, which I daresay he's noticed, he might have told me all this, and I might have helped him. Now he's starving and friendless. But I'll try to make up now, if it isn't too late. Do let me carry him home, father--may I?" "No," said Mr. Fairfax; "I'll go back and order some brandy, and send for the doctor. You stay here and take care of him and the mill." He went away, and very long did the time seem to Archie before the doctor arrived. Now he had time to think over his own unkind--nay, cruel--suspicions, founded on nothing but Stephen's shabby appearance. "It's my way, I know, to make up my mind too quickly, and by a fellow's outside," he thought. Then, somehow, the words of the last Sunday's epistle came into his mind--"Charity thinketh no evil." He knew that charity means love.